The Whipping Haus
by sainthood
Summary: Sara wants her love, Tegan wants her sex. - Pure smut and snuff. Quincest. One shot.


"Tell us _again,_ what happened." Sara bites down on her bottom lip, tears no one could decipher falling down her bruised cheeks.

"She came into the club, I hadn't seen her in a few years. We did a few hits of ecstasy, she wanted to has sex, so we did. Afterwards, she took me to the promenade for a late dinner. That's it." The middle aged, male officer refused to believe this story, completely and intentionally ignoring the fact that the girls wife could have as easily been the murderer. Sara sighs, resting her head on her hand. She was bored, so it appeared. "So, why aren't you questioning Lindsey? She's obviously more abusive then I am. I mean, look at what she did to me." Sara smirks, taking a long drag from the Malboro Light between her slim fingers.

"If you had murdered my wife, I would have done the same thing." he sneers, earning a disapproving look from his female partner. Sara sighs and swirls her slender finger in her hot coffee. She didn't really know how to feel about Tegan being dead. One half of her mind justified she had deserved it, while the other side wanted to kill everyone in this tiny room in hopes she'd be brought back.

"Explain to me, how I could have killed her? Sir, I'm _barely_ 90 pounds. Tegan was well 125, I broke my wrist moving a 40 pound box. So why don't you tell me,_ dear scientist_, how I could have "bludgeoned" this girl to death with a "blunt object", real descriptive tool, by the way. An object in which you _never_ did find, then moved her body from the club, all the way down to the river. Hmm?" Sara mocks his ridiculous story, she licks the sarcasm from her lips.

"People can do extraordinary things when they're in a rage." Sara presses her wet fingers to her temple.

"Then explain to me the fucking motive. She couldn't scream, while I held her close, now could she?" The cop sighs.

"Then explain to me the suicide attempt." Sara groans, she hated talking about herself and the insanities in her mind.

"If you were a stripper, working as a sometimes prostitute to get by, you'd want to die, too." The female cop laughs, leaving the older male to re-read Sara's rap sheet. His face twists up in disgust, when he uncovers a valuable piece of information he had missed.

"You both share last names," He barks, the female cops finds her self enthralled with Sara's slim body, "you both share blood," Sara looks away, her face becomes an ashamed blush behind the purple bruises. "You're sisters..?"

"She said she loved me." she whispers, "there's no way I can justify it into a light you could understand. She _loved_ me, and I _love_ her.." Sara's voice was light, full of an undeserving innocence. In a way, she wished Tegan was here, she had always been the stronger minded _twin_. She begins to feel cold, the numbness of being truly alone takes over her body. "I just can't take this, I _swear_ I told you the truth."

"Ben," the female officer finally chips in, falling farther and farther into Sara's spell, "How do we know it wasn't Lindsey? There's no evidence it wasn't.." Bill looks down up on his colleague with a dumb founded face.

"Are you fucking stupid? Why would Lindsey do it, there's no motive there." The female sighs and raises her eyebrows.

"How do you know Lindsey didn't find about the two of them? That's a _solid_ motive right there." He rolls his eyes and mocks her serious look.

"And I suppose I'm Jesus Christ himself, too? Time of death puts her at the club with Sara. So shut the fuck up and let me do my job." Sara couldn't stand the way the fat bastard treated the lady. She had always been rather_chivalrous._

"Don't fucking talk to her like that." She spits, clenching her hand into a fist.

"You have the right to remain silent, I'd use it." He snarks back. Sara rolls her eyes, slamming her fists against the table.

"I've been here all bloody day and night, I think I know my fucking rights."

"Anyways" he rolls his eyes once again, "there's _plenty_ of evidence. She was jealous of Lindsey, and that Tegan didn't 'Love' her anymore. If she was sick enough to sleep with her, she was sick enough to kill her." The woman cracks her neck, tapping her fingers against the table. Sara couldn't believe her freedom was in the hands of these two fuckasses.

"But, what she said makes sense. Look at her, she's tiny. She couldn't possibly have don-" The door swings open, an older gentleman waltz into the room like one of those ridiculous Law and Order shows. Behind him, for a quick second Sara catches a gimps of a short red head being restrained by a young officer. "YOU KILLED HER, YOU MURDERED MY TEGAN. I'LL KILL Y-" The door is slammed shut, causing Sara to jump. She was sure she had played this weak and feeble thing down to a T.

"Your partners right, officer. You have no evidence, and the small circumstantial evidence you do have would never hold up in court. Yes, she's a stripper, and yes she slept with her own sister. But love is grey area and incest isn't illegal. You have no choice but to let her go." He says with confidence, Sara pulls away from his touch on her shoulder.

"Do _not_ touch me right now." she growls. She didn't need a state appended lawyer to get her out of this one. Ben sighs, he knew deep down in his gut Sara had did it. But the lawyer was right, with no evidence, he would have to let her go. So, with a loud and displeased sigh, he orders Lindsey to be kept away from Sara, and the female officer to escort her home.

She falls heavily on her bed, letting her emotions finally catch up with her. She cradles her head in her hands like a baby, screaming to herself why she was such a fuck up. The cops knew Sara had did it, that her story of the evening was just a lie. Sara looks at her hands, her sisters blood still crusted under her nails.

"Why! Why Tegan, why did you do this to me! You told me you loved me! Why would you lie to me!" Sara begins to feel a love-sick insanity grasp a hold of her, in a moment of total break down her small bed room is trashed, shards of glass and porcelain scattered about the floor. She begins to go into a panic attack, her lungs seizing and causing her to suffocate under her own sorrows. How could she have done it, how could she have killed the girl who meant so much to her?

...A pulsing beat, 30 throbbing lights and that same old song that made her cringe at the first beat. She kicks her leg around the golden pole, sending her long, slender body into a twirl around it. She teases the crowd with a little flesh of her barely a-cup breast. Some days she could find shame in the fact they weren't Double D's, but tonight, she was fairly confidant with her pathetic, fragile body.

This wasn't a dirty strip club, in some city this girl longed to leave behind. She didn't dance for collage money, or to pay for her sisters education. This girl danced to feed the massive ego that consumed her head. She knew she had a body to die for, she knew with one look from her gorgeous brown eyes and a girl would be on their knees so fast just begging "Sara, fuck me please!" She knew any of the women watching her shed her skin in this death club could be hers with a simple "Now." **At least, this is what she liked people to believe.**

This wasn't a strip club like the ones in movies. There wasn't a one eyed prostitute who lived in the back. Or a 12 toed go-go dancer who danced it up to that horrid song "Gimme More". The walls didn't have flashy neon mudflap girls dancing on poles, or a 50's flashback club name dance floor. Oh no, this was a 'Gentle Mans club' –Although one could argue this has become a Woman's Club, **lesbian or not**, since Sara started dancing. See, the difference between Sara and the other girls was that they'd probably tell you they were an 'exotic dancer' or a 'go-go' or possibly on that one night at that peculiar minute, they may be a 'burlesque tease'.

But to her, they were all the same thing she was. **Filthy, shameless, whores**. And this didn't bother her in the slightest, she knew what her body could get her, and she used it to every advantage she could. They'd all shed their skin while men, or women threw away their money at them. Maybe after the show some would suck some John's cock and earn a few extra dollars, who knows maybe they'd let him fuck them up the ass for another thousand.

Sara had standards, her body was hers, and only hers. Yes, she'd show it off without a second thought, but when it came to the caress of another human being, nothing could satisfy Sara as one she once knew could, so human touch was an extreme no. This perplexed Sara's mind often, times she'd find herself lost in her thoughts, rather than the trance of the music.

"Perhaps," her mind would say to her, "Perhaps there's an exception to this rule." Sara would feel silly, being told something she didn't believe about herself, by no one other then herself.

"Perhaps, you should shut your mouth. There's nothing better than the touch of her."

"Perhaps," She would retaliate back, "this is because you haven't found it yet." This mindless, and endless argument would pursue in Sara's brain for hours, eventually ending with her drowning the nagging voice in the back of her head with a bottle of Jacks, or it was a really good night, high price heroin.

By now, Sara's almost naked, only a tiny G-string hangs lose around her bony hips. She left nothing to the imagination as she slid down the pole and into an open legged positions. **Perhaps,** it was the mindless struggle of how much longer she could be alone for was why at first, she had missed the arrival of a young CEO, whose name tag still read 'Tegan R. Quin' in a drab Sans Serif writing.

It's not until now, that Sara momentary glances over the girl, taking only seconds to immediately recognize her. 'Tegan' wears a scared posture, Sara takes the situation into her shaky hands. Getting onto her knees and pointing at Tegan with a seductive smile, She turns her arm 180 degrees so that she's pointing to the 'VIP' section. Tegan's frozen to the spot, not sure whether to follow the advice of the 10 or so women yelling at her to take this chance, or if she should flee back to the corporate office and write a letter to her wife on the reasons she loves her.

Unfortunately for Tegan, the lust that rips at her stomach out weighs her common sense when Sara moans for her to 'Come on' and she forgets all about the pretty red head waiting for her at home. So, under the influence of a higher power (at least in her eyes) she walks to a secluded room behind two husky security men to wait for Sara.

Tegan somewhat fears the mirror reflection of herself standing at the door. She's not sure why her guts burn with lust and desire for Sara's touch, but her mind tells her to reject this girl and flee before she falls under her wicked spell.

She can't figure out why Sara's not wearing her normal clothes, instead dressed in small black shorts and her bra, or why she gets the best rush in her life when Sara places a dull knife up to her neck. "Why did you leave me?" She whispers callously into Tegan's ear, hiding the lingering pain Tegan had inflicted on her when she had left. She lets out a whimper, now uncomfortable by the slight sting of the blade.

"I didn't know any other way." Tegan lies, causing Sara to smirk. She falls back on the couch adjacent from Tegan, ruining the knife tip up her thigh.

"Oh Tegan, Tegan, Tegan. What should I do with you?" She muses, wondering if she should test the girls fidelity to her wife. Tegan mumbles to herself and twiddles her thumb, doing anything to escape Sara's burning glare. The roaring burn between her legs wanted nothing more than to fuck the living hell out of Sara, while her brain told her it was wrong and that she needed to leave **now**.

"I need to go, I have to get back to Linds-" Sara stands up and places her knee heavy between Tegan's leg, her long slender arms pressing her back against the couch.

"Oh no, no, no. You're staying here to talk," Sara reaches into her pocket and pulls out one blue pill and one pink pill, "We just need to calm you down. Take this." She smirks, pressing the pills that to Tegan, tasted like candy, in her mouth. Within seconds her world is spinning, she can't focus, her eyes are a blurry mess. She assumes her awkward pitched words are actually fits of giggles.

Sara looks down at the girl with a grin. She was weak now, nothing more than a tripping mess of bones and flesh. She preferred Tegan this way, with no memory of what they had shared before. Sara grips the knife handle tightly, for mere seconds she thinks of lodging the blade in Tegan's skull, ending the source of the nasty depression that's riddled her for the past few years.

Instead, she chooses a different way to ruin this girls life, when she notices Tegan's intense interest in her body. She smirks and tells her 'friend' not to go anywhere, she'd be right back. Sara was a genius, in her own right. Most of the girls at the club had wondered why Sara would waste her life doing this, when she could easily have made it as a collage professor.

They couldn't understand why she would lower her self to such a degree, when anyone could see she deserve much better. Not one of them had stopped to ask Sara the _real_ reason why she shed her skin on stage.

The statements were all teh things Sara had manipulated people to believe. Sara took no pride (and not to get her wrong), and no shame in stripping. She knew this night would happen. The night she'd find Tegan sneaking into the dark room, to forget all about the pretty red head she had waiting at home.

She returned to the room with a video camera, which she set up in the corner. With out a word from Tegan, she places herself on her lap, bringing her face messily into Tegan's. "_I want you to fuck me_." She whispers into her ear, leaving a small bite mark on the crook of Tegan's pixie-coloured skin. Tegan's chocolate eyes look at Sara through her drugged haze.

"Sara, what about Linds-" Sara stops Tegan from muttering her name once again. Instead, she takes Tegan's hand places it in her shorts. She looks at Tegan with a begging pout, Tegan curses her weak heart when she begins to massage Sara in a way two people of their relation should not. Sara closes her soft eyes, trying to find some sort of feeling in Tegan's actions, she's surprised by the tingling tickle creeping in her body. She grips onto the back of the couch, her head rests on Tegan's shoulder as she tries to even out the pace of her breaths. Tegan smiles and begins to press her fore finger and index finger into Sara, grinning slightly at the blushed pink that befalls Sara's face. "Tegan," she whispers, pulling heavy on the girls sleeves, so they both fall to ground.

In one swift motion, Sara removes her wet shorts, throwing them across the room. Tegan smiles, well aware of her actions through her high. "Fuck her," Tegan thinks of her wife, "Who could ever resist this?" She smirks and begins to place soft kisses from the top of Sara's stomach all the way down. Her tongue begins to dance around Sara's form, luring her into the midst of extreme pleasure.

Tegan's phone begins to vibrate through her pants, sending shocks through her body, she smirks and lets out a tiny whimper, she decides to throw it across the floor and ignore the call. It rings again, and again, and then again. Eventually sending Sara into a fit, she sighs and brings her fists to he ground. "Just fucking answer it, it's probably your wife." She hisses, pulling her body up against a couch. Tegan reaches for the red technology, and holds it close to her ear.

"Hell- hello, love." She scoffs to her self. Love, what would Tegan know about love? There was no way she could Lindsey, in the way she loved Tegan. She listens to the phone call, her mind begging her eyes not let the tears she felt fall. How could she have let the slim brunette slip so far from her grasps? Lindsey didn't deserve Tegan, she didn't have a right to take her away from Sara. Tegan was Sara's, she always had been. Lindsey didn't know what it was like to have her taken away from her grasps.

"Unless," Sara thought, "Unless, I took Tegan away from her." She looks at a long metal candle holder, slowly she slinks to it. She watches Tegan cautiously as she explains to Lindsey, she'd be home soon. This plan was insane, but yet, it had to be the only way. Sara would never get over this loss in her life.

"I promise, I'll be home with in the hour. I'll always love you honey, remember that." She says, as if she sees the plan running through Sara's head. She hangs up and turns around, falling to the floor from the stinging sensation of her left temple.

"You love her?" Sara screams. "Tegan, you don't know what fucking love is!" She hits Tegan in the stomach, her sister cries out in pain.

"Sara, don't, please." She mumbles. Sara scoffs, she's laughing, Tegan can't believe it, Sara's laughing at her. She hits her again.

"I've _always_ fucking loved you, Tegan. ALWAYS. You said you'd love me forever, you lied Tegan." Sara brings the bloodied metal down on Tegan's chest, causing her sister to spit of spurts of blood. "Are you going to leave her too?" Tegan curls up on the ground, her whole bodies numb. She can't even face herself to look at Sara, she should hate her for this rampage.

But Tegan knows she's right. Lindsey could never love her better than Sara did. But who was Tegan to blatantly and publicly proclaim her love for her own sister? Sara hits her in the back of the head, she's seeing stars now. Her whole life seems to be going dark, Tegan takes one sharp inhale.

"I still love you." Sara shakes her head, tears now spilling from her hazel eyes. She wanted to believe Tegan, she really did. But there was no way, after everything she had done to Sara, that there was love there. At least, this is what Sara had always thought. She closes her eyes and breaths in, shutting out the world. She would never know that this was actually the truth.

"No, you don't." And with that, the candle holder falls heavy upon the crown of her sisters head. There's no noise, movement ceases. Below Sara, Tegan lies lifeless, her eyes closed, her face expressed with nothing. She falls beside her and begins to cry, reasoning with the corpse of her one time lover.

"I had to Tegan, you understand don't you?" Sara begins to wrap the carpet around Tegan's angelic body. She rushes to the counter to grab the camera she had placed there. Without stopping it, she hurtles it against the wall, watching as it falls into one hundred pieces. She sneaks out the back, struggling to pull the technically, newly mummified body. The river had always been Tegan's favourite place.

The only space in the city, where the Milky way wasn't diluted by the ugly smog of the city. So this is where she leaves her body, sitting up on an angels perch near the chilly water. She returns home and showers, replaying the night over and over again in her mind. She does this for almost a week before it all becomes too much.

She can't take it any more, and rushes to the kitchen, to slash her damned wrists. And this is where the cops found her, in a sterile white hospital room, with "guilty" metaphorically written on her forehead.

"Oh god." Sara whispers, as she runs to the bathroom to vomit up the little food she's had for the past two weeks. She falls against the porcelain tub, plotting "It wasn't your fault. Tegan, oh god, what have I done?" She sobs, pulling herself to the place in her closet, where she keeps her only protection.

Behind a velvet box of pictures she'd wish would burn, she finds the metallic weapon she hasn't seen since the day she bought it. She knew it was still loaded, she knew it was ready. She doesn't care about a note, or how pretty she needed to look. She'd be placed in a closed casket, with only her mother at her burial side, anyways. She cocks the Colt and places the barrel in her mouth, sucking on the iron tasting metal. Her tongue slides around the circular rim, her eyes closing tightly to cease her crocodile tears.

Sara wasn't sure how this worked, so she points the gun as far up on the roof of her mouth as she possibly could. She tilts her head back against the wall, letting her finger slip across the trigger and paints the wall with blood splatters much resembling a Rorschach inkblot, she doesn't say goodbye.

The police show up the next morning, coming to arrest Sara with the only evidence they had to pin her to the crime. The memory card of the camera Sara had thrown against the way in desperate hopes to shake Tegan from her mind. The scene they find disturbs the older male officer from before. Even more so than the tiny etches of the two dead twins name, he had found woven in ink to Tegan's arm.

But as he stumbled across the dead body Sara, his thoughts had shifted a few degrees and the end of the day he had concluded that perhaps he could never under stand the insanity of his relationship, because like Tegan, he had never loved someone as much as Sara had loved her.


End file.
